


Dark Desire

by arda_fata



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Forced Relationship, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incubus Maedhros, Must avoid the Dagor Dagorath, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arda_fata/pseuds/arda_fata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although she is of the blood of mighty elf lords and was raised according to her birth, Eleniel has lived most of her life in Middle Earth amongst men for centuries. Comfortably settled in her unimportant existence as Astrid, the last thing she expected was to be swept away by an envoy of the Valar.</p><p>Now, she has been sent to a time and place of which she has heard plenty of but does not really understand. Facing the dangers and brutality of an age long lost in time, she must do what she sworn she would never do in order to survive and fulfill a mission that was thrust unknowingly upon her before she was even born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Five out of the six women looked intently at him, nervous and scared.  Logical and understandable… his subordinates had taken them away from their lives and homes without a warning… some of them rather forcefully, but it was better this way.  The lesser chance the Enemy had to identify the Rínawendi, the best for everyone.  Sauron’s knowledge of the identities of three of them had been bad enough; they had almost been too late for two of them.

 

Now that the vassal of the Enemy had found a way to manipulate time, something only two of the Valar could do, but that Ilúvatar had strictly forbidden doing, things had changed.  The rules of the game had changed and Ilúvatar alone knew how things would develop.

 

Maybe the Valar, in their thrones of honour and purity were unwilling to break the rules and had stood their ground up until now.  However, Morgoth and Sauron were through with the rules of the game, and that eventually had forced the hand of the Valar.

 

All the bets were off, and he had to do the dirty work for them… but that was nothing new.  He had been doing that since time was time.

 

He did not mind terribly, as it all was for the greater good. Not to mention it helped him keep boredom at bay.

 

Eönwë gritted his teeth, recalling the instructions of Manwë and Vairë. 

 

_Find those that are beyond time, whose lives the maker created with a destiny that not even Melkor can change.  Be careful and fast, for the enemy will try to kill them before you can reach them.  If he lays his hands on them before you do, we will never be able to recover them from darkness, and then there will be no other way than to call upon arms… and you know what that will mean._

 

The houses of the kings were gone, the lines of the half-elven fully extinct in Middle-Earth after surviving for millennia and into the seventh age.  Many lives were changing already, and chaos was spreading.  The world was turning quickly in a place filled with darkness. Melkor’s inference in the past was slowly but steadily making itself known, and dragging in the last battle closer and closer.

 

The Dagor Dagorath not would begin while he could do something to stop it. It was not an option… not when the world was still young and humanity had so much potential for greatness.

 

The small lives of these unimportant creatures mattered not when the whole balance of the universe was at stake.  They were all terrified… and weak. His hopes for their success was incredibly low.

 

 _Ilmarë…_ how he wished he had her in here.  She would probably be far better qualified to soothe these women around him.  She always had a way with people… but she was not here and there was nothing to do about it now.

 

Things had gone according to plan up until now.  They were all in his hands and he had them on his ship, heading back to Valinor… beyond the reach of Sauron, although with his servants chasing them closely.  It was no small coincidence the weather was as terrible as it was around them.  They had already made the first move on the board, the Rínawendi were in his power, so it was a point for his team. 

 

Now it was up to Ulmo and his Maiar that they reached their destination safely.  Ossë was probably having a ball with the storm he was causing.  As long as he did not sink them by accident, he could have all the fun he wanted.

 

It did not matter if they did not reach Valinor in the first step.  If they just made it as far as Tol Eressëa, they would be safe and could rest.  Afterwards, they would continue at a gentler pace.

 

 He ran his eyes carefully over each one of them and he felt his hopes failing even more.  They were not warrior material… these creatures were not what legends were made of, trembling and snivelling as they were, huddled together on the couch.

 

Well, not all of them. The one staring from the window out the window at the stormy sea outside and another one in a corner, with her arms crossed and expression of defiance, might survive this. Time would tell. These two gave him a glimpse of hope, but even then, it was a frail one. 

 

The first one, he already knew, most likely had a clue about what this was about… but she would definitely be surprised when she found out just how deep in the mess she was.  She would not take it nicely and she would fight every inch of the road. The second one, well any teenage girl who could outrun Sauron for two years, carrying a child along the way, already had his respect.

 

Taking a deep breath, and noticing that a few were about to have a nervous breakdown, he finally addressed them.

 

“A few months ago, a number of strange natural disasters have been happening all over the planet.  Why are these strange, ladies?  Who knows?  You, England… you look smart, you should know why.”  He pointed with his hand at an athletic dark-skinned woman who attempted to pass her uneasiness as aloofness.

 

“They happened in places they are not supposed to… hurricanes in Russia, earthquakes in Canada, snowstorms in Brazil, tsunamis in Norway, that kind of stuff…” she answered in stammering voice.

 

He smiled widely at her and tossed her a caramel, which she barely managed to catch, “Good girl, Miss Dawn.”

 

“Why are we here?  This is illegal!  This is kidnapping and I will have your skin for this!  Do you know who I am?” a thin brunette with blue eyes snapped and took a step towards him.

 

“You are Iris Whitaker, a paediatrician, daughter of a Senator from the United States, and there is nothing your father can do about this.”  He answered swiftly and she took a step back, trembling.

 

“This is absurd!  This is utterly absurd,” a short olive-skinned woman muttered under her breathe and fell tiredly to the back of the couch, running her fingers over her eyes.

 

“It is, is it not, Kiowa?  That such squeamish, frightened, intimidated creatures as you could change the course of history?”  He told them and a few of them frowned.  “My name is Eönwë, and I was ordered to bring you before the higher powers.  Why is that?  I cannot tell you, not allowed to.  What those higher powers are, this one can tell you,” and he pointed to the woman staring at the window, “I assume you know where are we going, I am mistaken, Astrid?”

 

The girl from the window turned her head to look at him.

 

“Yes, I know where we are going.  Aman, Valinor… the Undying Lands of Araman.  What don't I understand is... why?  I mean, I might understand why I am here, as I am from the firstborn, but what are the rest of them doing here.”  Astrid answered and returned her eyes back to the window.  She had long brown hair and shiny green eyes that reminded them of a snake.

 

Eönwë smirked before answering, “I told you already I cannot tell you, ladies.  So relax and enjoy the trip as much as you can.  I assure the ship is safe and that as long as you stay indoors, you will be protected.  You should be thrilled Astrid, you will be seeing your mother and father very soon.”  He stood straighter before adding, “Speaking of which, I hope you had left on good terms with your families because you might not see them in a long while, if ever.  As for the Lady Astrid, she will be taken into her grandfather’s house while you lot are being prepared for your task.  The rest of you will be taken as guests in a house, property of the Noldoran, where we can watch, train, and protect you.”

 

That said, Eönwë left the room and locked the door behind him.

 

The lot turned to look at Astrid and she felt her cheeks burn.

 

“I know little more than you do, I swear!” she told them defensively.

 

“Then what do you know?”  A tall slender woman asked impatiently in a heavily marked accent, she had long dark hair, olive skin and green eyes.

 

“About the Valar… and their servants… also about their Enemy,”

 

“Who are you?  What is your connection with this crazy people and why is your family there?  Are you with them and here to supervise us?  Make sure we do not do anything crazy?”  Iris asked, angry, and Astrid threw her shoulders back and stood taller.

 

“My name is Eleniel Elrohiriel, of the house of Elrond.  However, I go by Astrid, I have for a few centuries.  Elrond, a high lord amongst the elves is my grandfather.  Since we are headed to the lands of the elves, yes, it makes sense that my family is there, does it not?”  She answered coolly.

 

“Did you say elves?  Are not elves supposed to be tiny things with ugly suits loaded with bells that help Santa Claus?”  Dawn asked, arching an eyebrow.  The children, commercial version was a much better alternative than the one forming in the back of her mind, which came from legends and D&D games.  Wild, warrior elves were not something that she even wanted to consider.

 

“No, trust me on that one, we are not like that.  Elves are tall and beautiful creatures that can be as kind as a spring afternoon or as deadly as a volcano.  Immortal, wisest, and fairest of all creatures, some have called us.”

 

 “Immortal?  That is impossible!  What does that even mean?  Are you saying that there is no way you can die?  Moreover, do you claim to be one of them as well?  What is going on in here?”  Iris snapped, barely making any sense.

 

“We can be killed, but old age or disease cannot touch us nor kill us.  Our bodies are stronger and more resilient than those of Humans are.  Not so with some aspects of our soul.”

 

“I do not get a thing about all this!  Either you tell the story in full, Miss, or you don’t tell it all.”  An athletic looking teenager in tattered jeans and shoes called from across the room and Astrid turned to look at her.

 

Bright blue eyes pierced her from under an auburn mane and Astrid sighed and nodded.  “I guess the best place to start is the very beginning, but believe me when I tell you that this is a story of the likes you have never heard before.  It has been a long while since I last thought about this, so I might get some details wrong.”

 

Astrid closed her eyes for concentration before starting…

 

“In the beginning there was Eru, the One… the Maker, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar.  First came the children of his thoughts, who are called the Ainur, which means the “Holy Ones” and they were before anything else was created…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“How are they faring?”  Olórin asked him as soon as Eönwë entered the main cabin and collapsed on a couch.

 

“Some are angry and have more bravery than wits. I believe they will need them both.  Others are silent, but they all are nervous.  In general… not everything might be lost.  Let’s hope they can resist for one single age… just long enough for us to regroup and make a plan for an attack of our own,” he answered pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Does the Lady Astrid know already of her most peculiar lot?”  Olórin asked, with a smirk.

 

“No, and I do not envy her.  She was born too entangled in this situation for anyone to be comfortable with.  I do not expect her to survive… I do not expect any of them to do so.” Eönwë mused and his companion frowned.

 

“Maybe she will, that is mostly up to her resilience… and you find the most impressive resilience in the least expected places.”  Olórin answered with the hint of a smile on his lips.

 

“And what makes you think Astrid will not be crushed?  Alternatively, any of them… even the kindest of them, gentle Finrod, might be too much for any of them to deal with,” Eönwë snapped.

 

“Well, yes, their tasks will not be easy, but each one has her own kind of strength… so, yes, I believe Astrid and the rest can survive this challenge.  Who knows?  They might even manage to keep them all in line?”

 

“I pray you are correct.  If I had been given a choice, I would have chosen Arwen over her niece any damned day.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So these Trees, are they an allegory to the Moon and the Sun?”  Iris asked, frowning and Astrid shook her head.

 

“They came before Isil and Anor, which are the Moon and the Sun.  Then, the world was in darkness save for the stars, for the Trees gave light only to Valinor.  So, once they were safe and their land protected, the Valar sat back and waited for the Children of Ilúvatar to come,” Astrid told them.

 

“The Children of Ilúvatar?” the athletic woman with auburn hair, Cassandra, asked.

 

“They are Men and Elves… although Elves, or Quendi, came to be first.  Only not quite, you see, Quendi were to be the first to come, but one of the Valar, Aulë, grew impatient and created his own children… the Dwarves.  Therefore, Ilúvatar confronted him and decided to give life to the dwarves, but they would have to wait for the elves to make their appearance first.  Then some more hundreds of years passed when the Quendi awoke by the lake of Cuivienen.”

 

“Is that in Valinor?” the black woman, Dawn, asked.

 

“No, it is somewhere in the east, but nobody knows where.  By now I assume it has disappeared from the map. The Earth is far too different…  Anyway, the Valar finally went to war and captured Melkor, their enemy.  Afterwards, they guided the Quendi to Valinor, but during their journey, they became divided among a number of peoples.  The three kinds that made it to Valinor were the Vanyar, who were the most devout, and the most beautiful, the Noldor, who are the wisest and the most troublesome, and the Lindar, or Teleri, which had a deep connection to the sea, and enjoyed singing above everything else.  In addition, each kind had their king, Ingwë for the Vanyar, Finwë for the Noldor and Olwë for the Teleri.  Those that stayed behind, and had a close relation to the Teleri, were the Sinda, and their king was Elwë, the brother of Olwë.”  Astrid continued her story, “And so the main peoples of the Elves were settled.  There are many peoples, but that is a far longer story, and far too complex for me to fully remember it now,”

 

Silence fell over them for a few minutes.  Most of them were trying to process Astrid’s story, but they saw it for the most as they would any mythology.  It was hard for them to feel it as something real.

 

“So according to you, how did the Sun and the Moon came to be?” the tall slender woman, Sarah, asked suddenly.

 

Astrid took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair, “That is the story of an Elf named Fëanor and his greatest creations… the Silmarilli.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rínawendi - crowned maidens
> 
> The story Astrid tells them is esentially a quite shortened of the Silmarillion.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Eleniel… my Eleniel… you belong to me…_ **

 

_She could feel him all around her… his weight over her body… his hips cradled in hers… their bodies joined…_

 

_Yours… yours…  I am yours…_

 

_The tip of his nose against her cheek… his lips over neck… and she needed more…_

 

_One flesh… one soul… bonded until the end of time…_

 

**_Mine…_ **

_Yours…_

 

_His body had burst out in flames…_

 

Astrid woke up with a start and jumped out of bed, half expecting to see her sheets aflame and burns on her skin.  She made sure the place was empty before she began to pace through the room.

 

She was nervous and her subconscious expected him to show up next to her bed, drag her down and finish what he had begun.

 

This was not natural… this was not normal… to have an occasional dream of a more explicit nature was not that strange, but this was not normal.  Not every night, not always the same lover… and it was never supposed to feel as real, much less leave marks in her body.  She woke with his handprints in her hips, thighs, breasts, ass… and she had already lost count of the number of hickeys that had covered her neck, chest and shoulders courtesy of this wretched incubus.

 

Hell! If she pressed her thighs together, she could still feel him inside her body.

 

This was frightening.

 

To make things even worse, he knew her name... the one her father gave her at birth... the one she had not spoken to anyone about since Gondor had fallen at the start of the Fifth Age.  Everyone afterwards had known her as Astrid, not as Eleniel.  This was someone who knew her, who knew her past and she could not understand how that was possible.

 

The dreams had begun a fateful night six months ago in her apartment, and had grown worse with time, although she had still been able to control them.

 

At least until Eönwë’s subordinates had arrived and taken her to bring her here.  The night they had landed in Tol Eressëa, four months ago, every small amount of control she might have had vanished.  There was something in there, in Valinor, which reached out to her.  Something that was dark and yearned to have full control over her, devour her, and chain her to its darkness.

 

Something that she dared not even think about, something that would kill her with the sheer strength of its power of will if given the chance.

 

 Astrid was certain she would burn to ashes if she reached back to him.

 

 She shuddered and closed her eyes tightly as she sat on the bed, relishing in the warmth that still lingered in the sheets.  Nights were not particularly cold, but the change from the bed to the floor was not a pleasant one, much less when it was as sudden as it had been this time.

 

Her tormentor… her incubus… she dreaded him with all her might.

 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think of something, anything that was not related to her problem.

 

Who were the rest of the women?  Astrid had not seen them in a long while.  All of them had been taken down one road while her father and grandfather escorted her the other way, but she knew that they were learning not only the language, history, and customs of the Eldar, but also swordsmanship and the use of a number of herbs, as was she.

 

They were being thoroughly prepared for something.  What was that?  She could not tell, she did not know.  However, they had a few hard months ahead of them until the spring solstice, when they would begin whatever mission the Valar had in store for them. That much, at least, was what the Maiar who welcomed the lot of them had said.

 

The Powers were hard pressing them to ready themselves, but they had given them no more information.

 

She wondered for few seconds if any of them were being haunted the way she was.  She fervently hoped they were not.  It was a terrible experience to be stuck with an incubus, all the more so if you did not know how to handle or defeat them.  She had often dealt with them in the past, but the difference was that she had summoned them, on her rules, in order to destroy them.  She was a natural when it came to controlling the realm of dreams.  Never had she failed to do so before.

 

This one, though, she had not summoned, this one had come to her out of its own volition and nothing she did had worked to get rid of him.  His spirit was far too strong for her destroy, or even fight against.

 

Once he appeared, it was a lost battle.  He would have his way with her and that was the end of it.

 

Maybe if she had a face to start with it would be easier to identify him and destroy him, but she never recalled his face in full.

 

She could remember certain traits of his, sometimes the colour of his hair, the width of his shoulders, exactly how much taller than her he was.  However, it would all be gone by morning, when she tried to commit the memory to paper.

 

This time she recalled wild silver eyes, filled with pain and sorrow… and madness.  Whoever he had been, he died in pain and beyond sanity.

 

 She would pity him if she were not scared out of her wits of him.

 

Another thing that was driving her crazy was the fact that her family clearly knew whatever her mission was, but they were not offering any insight into it.  She felt it in the way they talked to her, in the way they looked at her as if she were about to be taken to her execution at any possible second.

 

That was disturbing… terribly so.

 

It was worse because they would do nothing to stop it, as far as she could tell.  They would leave her to walk this alone, to live or die on her own.

 

Astrid leaned back against the pillow and tucked herself back into the covers, fighting the urge to run towards her parents’ room.  It was not that they would close their door on her; it was just that it would be strange to do so after not seeing them for a good five millennia.

 

Maybe if he had not stayed in Middle-Earth she would go to her brother.

 

Her brother would be worried… she had vanished into the night one evening without letting anyone know.  Their cousin Adanessa would be worried as well, but there was no way around it.

 

She ran her eyes over her surroundings once more, to make certain she was alone. The canopy and curtains of the large bed seemed to close in on her, ready to trap her into her nightmare.

 

Maybe she should just simply try to contact Eönwë and refuse to do whatever he wanted her to do.

 

Ha!  Like that would ever work.  He would probably laugh for a few hours in her face before sending her away to carry on preparing for whatever the heck they had in store for her.

 

This was too much, too many preparations, too much stress, too many sleepless nights sharing a bed with an incubus that left her more tired that when she had first gone to bed.

 

She did not want to go back to sleep alone. She did not want to be alone, period.

 

**_You are not alone…_ **

****

**_I am here…_ **

 

The voice was barely audible, but she was clearly able to feel a soft breath brushing against her pointy ears and soft lips pressed over the sensitive pulse point between her ear and her neck.

 

 _Stop!  Go away, you… cursed incubus!_   She screamed in her mind as tears gathered in her eyes and she held back the need to sob in frustration.  Astrid simply felt a body much longer and larger than hers pressed against her back and legs, and a strong arm around her waist.

 

Before she could regain control and move away, a heavy unnatural sleep had taken hold of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Astrid would be a good translation of her given name.
> 
> Eleniel - Daughter of Stars
> 
> Astrid - Star (I read somewhere that it is a deformation of the greek Aster)


	3. Chapter 3

He grunted loudly through the gag when the saw the tall figure walking towards him and stop a few feet away.

 

“Yuhe Xiao Jingling, Alexandros Welles, Alessandro Guarigione… those are only a few of many other aliases that you have taken throughout time and places, or am I mistaken?  What a pleasure to see that the houses of the heroes live to see the Seventh Age of the Sun.  However, I happen to know your real name… the identity you were born with, Beriadan Elrohirion of the House of Elrond.”  The tall creature spoke in a barely audible voice as the elf tried to release himself from the chains that attached him to a column.

 

He had been assaulted and kidnapped outside of the hospital he worked at by at least six mortals. The place they had dragged him to was the unfinished area of the top levels of a skyscraper, before chaining him, not without effort, and then left him with the creature before him.

 

Any lesser being would have mistaken him for a man… a tall handsome man with long reddish hair, who seemed to be temptation incarnate.

 

Nevertheless, he knew better than believing in the form displayed before him… all of his instincts told him so.  This was no mortal… this was no elf… this was a Maia, one of the Ainur and he overpowered Beriadan immensely.

 

Unfortunately, for him, there was only one Maia left in Middle-Earth that he knew of, one that had fallen beyond all redemption.  Even worse… one that enjoyed playing with his food.

 

Beriadan glared at Sauron as he tried to keep his mind either blank or focused on inane things such as his broken coffee machine or the fact that he had run out of butter the morning before.  He would not give the most feared servant of Morgoth easy entrance into his head… even when he was wearing a three-piece suit and looked a perfectly respectable CEO, which was terribly strange.

 

“Not as strange as an elf working in a hospital, my dear,” Sauron told him a deceivingly gentle voice.  “And that is why I always have someone else make my coffee and buy extra groceries.”

 

A large hand with long thin fingers removed the gag from his mouth with unbelievable gentleness and caressed his hair tenderly.  Beriadan turned his head and attempted to bite Sauron’s hand, but he was safely away from the reach of his teeth fast enough.

 

“Now, to the matter, I want to discuss with you,” the dark Maia gave him his most beatific smile and the elf barely held a snarl. “Where are the Rínawendi?”

 

His eyes shot open in surprise, having never heard the word before.

 

“You should not dare give me that look!  I happen to know on good sources that your sister is one of them!”

 

“I know not what are you talking about, and even if knew, I would sooner die than giving the likes of you so much as the hour,” Beriadan answered in a cold voice.

 

“Do not challenge me, or I might fulfil your wishes,” if Sauron’s threat affected the elf, he did not let it show.  “You should know that contrary to popular belief, it is not I you all should be worried about, but the Valar and their servants, Beriadan.”

 

“Yeah, right… my dirty socks.  Fuck off!”

 

“Watch your tongue, elfling.” The Maia tsked at him and shook his head. “Why must you be so stubborn?”

 

Beriadan glared at him, but did not move an inch.

 

 “Would you like to know what awaits them?”  Sauron smiled patiently as if dealing with a child in a temper tantrum, “You surely do not know, or elsewise you would be doing anything in your power to ensure that your sister is safe and away from their reach,”

 

“Whatever lies you plan on telling, you can write down on a piece of paper, roll it into a tube, and shove it up your sorry…”

 

“I do not lie!”  Sauron snapped, cutting the elf short before taking a deep breath and returning to his cool facade, “I simply will not tell the whole truth,”

 

“Tell that to Celebrimbor,”

 

“Oh, dear old Celebrimbor…  I never lied to him.  I offered power and knowledge and I gave them, I simply had my own agenda to follow,” Sauron's cruel smile sent chills down the Beriadan’s body.  “Now, I would like first of all to make clear that on this matter we are both on the same side.  I do not want the Rínawendi anywhere near Valinor, and you do not want your sister tied down as a chew toy for Maedhros Fëanorion.”

 

Beriadan frowned in confusion, lowering his eyes as his mind recalled the history lessons imparted by his father and great-grandfather, “That is a bunch of bull…  Maedhros is trapped in Mandos until the unmaking of Arda.  My sister has nothing to do with the dead bastard.”

 

“Maybe that is what the Valar are planning… you see, these most peculiar ladies, the Rínawendi, will be used as nothing but living sacrifices to restore the ancient ones from Mandos,”  Sauron knelt in front of him so they were levelled eye to eye, “You seem to care deeply for your sister, Beriadan.  Is that really the fate you want for her?  Can you see her in your mind’s eye?  The little girl you grew up with, the daughter of your father, your mother’s second child… bind to a sacrificial stone for a mad, tormented soul to rape over and over and over again until she breaks and dies… or going down the same way that Serindë… bearing a monstrous child to consume her from the inside out.”

 

Beriadan began to tremble and shook his head wildly, the purest terror shining in his eyes, “No!  You are lying!  No!  That could not happen!  Not ever!  Not to her!  She is stronger than that!  She will fight, she will not go down… my mother and father would never allow that!  My grandfather and great-grandfather would never ever permit such a thing to happen!  It is not the way of the Eldar; we do not give away our maidens like that!  Our daughters are not tradeable goods to barter with.”

 

Sauron smiled, enjoying the pain and anguish in the elf’s voice.

 

“I have seen her already if we do not act fast, Beriadan…  An elleth in a bloody bed, struggling to bring a doomed babe into the world, tearing her insides… too large for her body, I presume.  She is, after all, a tiny female.”  He pressed his hand to Beriadan’s forehead and transmitted the image to his mind…

 

His beloved sister… broken and tired covered in sweat and blood as a creature planted forcefully inside her tore from the inside out, killing its mother to be born.  He saw the shape of an enormous ellon giving the order to save the child if even if it meant the death of the mother.

 

“Poor little Eleniel,” Sauron cooed as he released the elf and exited his mind.  “Now… once again, where are the Rínawendi?”

 

Still trembling like a leaf, Beriadan closed his eyes and pressed his lips together… he looked shaken to his very core and Sauron smiled, wondering if elves had really gone that soft.  Maedhros had endured torture ten thousand times worse than this mere interrogation and had not broken.  Maeglin Lómion had broken, true, but he had been an incredibly hard nut to crack.

 

His memories stopped abruptly when the spit hit his face, quite close to his eyes.

 

“I do not believe your lies…  I do not believe your twisted and false visions!  You cannot create, so you twist!  You have stolen these visions and twisted them!  Some poor woman may have perished that way, but my sister will not!  You have taken her face and placed it in another body!  That is not my sister’s fate!  I have not information to give to you and even if I did know anything, I would never tell you a thing!” the anger in the elf’s eyes was wild and strong.  He was strong and willful, and he was not planning to go down easy.

 

 _Very well, let us see who stands his ground longer_ , Sauron thought, glaring at Beriadan.

 

Sauron gave the elf a cold smile and ordered that Beriadan be taken away, down to a soundproof room…

 

The little elfling would speak…

 

He had broken a son from the line of Finwë before…

 

He would do so again.

 

And once again, he would enjoy it.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Nerdanel sighed deeply as she saw Finwë ridding up to the doorstep of her family’s home through the window in her study.  She had not contemplated that sight since her twin sons were children and she wondered what could bring him here now. 

 

Yes, she had heard the rumours, but she had paid them no mind.  People had been gossiping about the release of her sons and her husband ever since Artanis had returned from Endórë. By now, people should be well aware that there was no going back.  Those who were still in Mandos were most likely to stay there.

 

However, Finwë’s sudden release six hundred years ago had not done anything but add fuel to the fire.

 

She had not reached out to her political family ever since the sun had risen for the first time, and they had not reached out to her.  The silence between her and the ones she had once called sisters had grown longer and colder until she realized she had not seen them in several hundred years.  The bonds of friendship and sisterhood she had shared with Findis, Anairë, Irimë, and Eärwen were damaged beyond repair.

 

So, what could possibly bring her father in law here now?

 

Nerdanel shook her head and told herself she was being paranoiac. Maybe he was not here for her and she was just imagining things.  Her father was still an artisan and a blacksmith and one of the best ones at that.  That was probably all that was about.  It was nothing more than a commission for Mahtan from the recently returned Noldoran.

 

She returned to her desk and focused on the sketches she was working on, as she had done for millennia now.

 

Ever since the loss of her sons, she had focused solely on her work and had done her best to keep the memories, both good and bad, at bay.  She did not even want to remember her sons, as even the happy memories she had of them felt tainted with horror and bloodshed.  The subject of her husband and sons were vetoed in the house and they all respected that.

 

As far as they knew, she had never been married and she had no children… or so they pretended.

 

She heard Finwë’s horse stop before the entrance and one of her father’s apprentices rushing to take the animal to the stables the moment the king descended.  She could see him in her mind giving the boy a curt nod of thanks before he approached the door and asked for Mahtan’s presence.

 

Nerdanel closed her eyes and emptied her mind to think no more of him and once more focused on the sketch she was working on.  Manwë’s temple in Valmar had two statues that needed restoration and she was going to apply for the job.  She had to concentrate, and she would not manage to if she kept pondering about the past or the people who had been a part of hers.

 

A few minutes later, however, her father knocked gently on the door to her study, asking her to receive Finwë.  She did not expect this, but she guessed she should not have been surprised. Nerdanel sighed and winced, there seemed to be no way around the meeting, so she might as well go through with it.

 

The former king was waiting for her downstairs. He seemed anxious and kept cracking his knuckles.  Fëanáro used to do the same… as did Carnistir and Pityo. The gesture felt like cold water poured down her back.

 

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and approached him slowly, expecting recriminations, coldness, reproaches for not sticking with her husband and sons…

 

However, when Finwë turned to look at her he took two long strides and embraced her before kissing both her cheeks with a paternal smile on his face.  Only until this moment had she realized that she had missed him very much.  He had exuded charisma and was the kind of person one could not help liking.

 

His firstborn had been like that, as well, at first… it came so sudden back to her that she almost felt the need to weep.

 

“My dear girl, my dear Nerdanel… you look well, I am glad to see” he greeted her before taking a step back to properly look at her.  “We must speak privately of an urgent matter,” his voice turned serious and she nodded.

 

“Thank you,” she answered, “We can talk in my study.”

 

They went up to her study and sat in front of the small table where she met potential clients.

 

Finwë took a deep breath and held her hands in his, “Nerdanel, my dear daughter, I have made a terrible mistake.  You are probably the only one who can help me right now.”

 

Cold ran down her body and she straightened her back, “Why?  What do you mean by that?”

 

The king shot a nervous glance at the door.

 

“What have you heard about the Rínawendi?” his voice was careful and steady.

 

“Rumors, mostly rumours concerning Fëanáro’s sons,” she answered and sighed deeply, “My sons are never coming back, which makes it all ridiculous,” Nerdanel only hoped he did not notice how hard she tried to keep the pain away from her voice.

 

Finwë nodded tiredly, “Yes, the Oath is very likely to keep them in Mandos.”

 

“Very likely?  That is just a way to sugarcoat a harsh truth,”

 

They stared in silence at one another for long tense seconds until Finwë lowered his eyes. What could he want with her?  There was nothing she could do to help him.

 

“Do you remember that storm about six months ago?  And the Valar going to high council right afterwards?” he asked and she nodded.  There had only been one time she had been afraid like that day.  When darkness had come to Valinor and she had lost her children.  The ground had shaken and the sky had been plagued with thunder like never before, and she had briefly wondered if that was what the Númenoreans had felt before their land went under the sea.  It had been three terrible days and then it had stopped as if nothing had happened.

 

“I am afraid that with that storm came a great risk of the Enemy breaking free of his prison.  This is due to his most powerful servant already set to the task releasing his master, and to do so, he has found a way to alter time.  Time is, as you know, a very precious thing… and fate is something very delicate.”

 

 “What?”  She was in shock… and scared.  Release Melkor?  Was Sauron really trying to bring him back?  How did one ever alter time?  Was such a thing even possible?  Were the Valar even certain of this?  Yes, she was aware that doubting the judgment of the Valar sounded blasphemous, but she had firsthand experience with how bad things could get when they were mistaken.

 

“I cannot tell you how he managed to achieve that.  I do not fully understand how it works; only that it requires a large amount of energy.  Large enough to kill either elf or mean should they try on their own, and the children of Ilúvatar, are the only ones capable of jumping in time, no Ainur can do so.”  He tried to explain. “The Ainur have to use their power to send either men or elves,”

 

“So these women are to be sent off to somewhere in time?  What do I have to do with them?”

 

“They cannot be returned to the times when the Trees still shone.  There is no power great enough to go that far, it is one of those things that should not be altered.  Not to mention that direct exposure to the Tree light would greatly damage a human body, so they will be sent as far as possible.  That is First Age Beleriand.  Nerdanel, they are intended to be advisors for the Elven Lords that crossed the sea back to Endor.”

 

Nerdanel winced tiredly, “They are wasting their time, the Elven Lords of Beleriand they were too stubborn, and they would never listen to whatever these women say.”

 

“Have you ever seen a male who can resist the words of a resourceful female?”  He asked with a sly grin.

 

“I was married to one, in case you have forgotten,” she answered and his smile faltered.

 

“You knew them better than anyone, and these maidens will need your help if they want to survive.  Will you help them?” Finwë looked at her with hopeful eyes and she hated him for it… for having a faith in her that she had lost long ago.

 

Nerdanel stood, walked away from the table, rubbing her forehead and looking for the softest words to refuse him.  “You ask too much from me,”

 

“There is no one else!”  Finwë insisted and she winced tiredly.  “I am here begging for your help, begging for these girls’ lives.  Anairë will hear nothing about it, she has stated that the sheer thought of these women being in Valinor is already a debasement to all elves and an insult to all royal houses.  Eärwen says that it is the equivalent of the Valar giving their blessing to the Noldor over the Kinslaying of Alqualondë.  Neither Eärwen nor Anairë will have anything to do with their training, they have not said so in these exact words, but the lot of them can die for all they care.  Overall, I am not sure I trust their judgement.  You, on the other hand, have always been considered wise,”

 

“Wise?  I was a complete and utter fool seven times in my life!  When I married and every time I conceived.  Find someone else!”  She told him firmly, but he shook his head.

 

“You already know that Findis would rather hack off her own hand than return to court, as for Irimë, well, she does what she can, but the fact is she does not trust one of them and I do not trust her with them.  Indis fears them beyond reason and she has not even met them, she has not even laid eyes on one!”  Finwë answered, exasperated at the females of his family.

 

“What about Artanis?  What of Irissë?”  She insisted.

 

“Neither of them can be neutral, and you know that,”

 

 So you’re asking me to be neutral when Fëanáro’s sons are concerned?”  Nerdanel snapped in desperation.

 

 “Yes, because I know that you can do so.  I would not be here if I did not think you could do this!  I know they are your children as well…”  His faith in her was beginning to move her, and she could not allow herself that.

 

“The children I wish I’d never borne!” she hung her head in defeat and ran her fingers through her hair.  “I am unfitted for the job.  What kind of mother refuses all of her children?  What kind of mother comes to rejoice over her sons’ disgrace?  Do you want to know what my first thoughts were when the army returned and I heard about their deaths?  Praise Ilúvatar, justice has been made.  About my own sons…”

 

“I understand… believe me, I do.  I have tormented myself with the same thoughts often when I find myself alone.  At times, I can almost forget he was ever alive.  It pains me, everyone seems intent on forgetting any of them ever existed and I do not hold it against them.  It pains me that, sometimes, I am caught in the pretence and find no guilt in it.  I miss my son and I feel guilty for doing so” Finwë lowered his eyes and closed them, lost in remembrance.

 

“And yet, you ask me to help and advice a bunch of strange girls of how best to get into my sons’ beds?”  She asked wearily.  “Why are they so important to you?”

 

“Because this might be the only way to repair a terrible mistake I made long ago.”  He truly sounded desperate.

 

“You have said you made a mistake, but will not tell me what it was.  If you tell me, then I will consider helping you.”  She had learned long ago never to enter a deal blindly, least of all when he or his family was concerned.

 

“You cannot ask that from me”

 

“Your silence or my help, you chose which is more valuable to you.”  She insisted.

 

He pressed his lips together before looking intently at her, “My blood and Míriel’s was used to seal Melkor away when the Valar captured him after the Awakening.”

 

“What?”  Nerdanel opened her eyes in surprise, fully unaware of this new piece of information.

 

“It was meant to be a secret.  It was a powerful seal, and there was a high probability that we would die, but we volunteered anyway.  Ingwë’s wife was with child and Olwë had not made the crossing of the sea. The seal was made and many years passed, our cities were built, our people settled and grew, the power of our kingdoms was cemented… and my wife began to yearn for a child.”  Finwë explained, suddenly looking extremely old and tired.

 

“That seems completely natural,” She conceded.  She too had yearned for Maitimo with all her heart when she had first married Fëanáro.

 

“We could not, due to the seal.  However, we grew overconfident and arrogant, and one night we decided to throw everything to the wind and conceive a child.”  He continued.

 

“Fëanáro”

 

“Yes”

 

“Is that why she died?”

 

“No, her pouring her spirit in him was not a lie.”

 

 “So he was doomed from the start?”

 

Finwë frowned and shook his head.  “No!  I never believed so.  Not him, not my beloved son who was all I had left of my other half.  He was so strong, and he was brilliant, he could never be cursed.  No, I caved into my weaknesses and doomed us all.”

 

“You regret Indis?”  Nerdanel wondered how much the answer to that question would have affected her husband.

 

“I regret her… not my children by her.  My greatest fear is that she knows it, and she remains as loving and kind as she has always been.  Maybe I should have been content with my son, but a life, a world without my other sons, without my daughters… is too painful to imagine.  If you had to choose between one of your sons and erase the existence of the rest, what would you do?”  His answer was honest and painful.

 

 She lowered her eyes and bit her lower lip; there was something special and dear to her about each of her sons that she could not forsake.  He gave her a knowing smile and she nodded, conceding his point, “I think I understand.  However, how do these Ladies enter the scene?”

 

“Only one of them truly matters to the story I have just told you, the rest have minor roles.”  Finwë told her.

 

“Which one?”  If what truly mattered was in hands of one young girl somewhere, she at least had to know whom.

 

“Her name is Eleniel; she is the daughter of one of the sons of Elrond.  I believe you were on good terms with his wife?”

 

“Celebrían, yes, we have met.”  She had seen her twice, a tall blond elf with a heartwarming smile who seemed to be of an extremely gentle nature.

 

“To begin to restore the seal in the Doors of Night my blood is necessary.  Not so much my blood as the blood of my lineage, through the male line at least.  The lines must be united for the seal to be effective.  Nothing else might work in light of recent events.”  He explained, and Nerdanel frowned in confusion.  “She has the blood of Nolofinwë through Elrond and Eärendil and Itarillë and Turukáno, and the blood of Arafinwë through Celebrían and Artanis.”

 

“Which means?”  Nerdanel was not certain she wanted an answer to that question.

 

“That if she is to bear a son to your eldest, there is great chance to seal the Door of Night for good.”  His answer was rotund and it left no room for further argument.

 

“So she is meant to be Maitimo’s bride?  He will crush her…  He is going to destroy her, he will crash and burn and kill her in his wake.  She had better run or she will end up like me.  I should know… he might have been a little more tolerant, but he had his father’s temper.”  Nerdanel felt chills down her spine, imagining someone with Celebrían’s gentle nature under the care of her son.

 

“He was far more tolerant and his rage was not as great,” Finwë argued with a knowing glance thrown her way.

 

“From the grandson you remember, not the monster the letters described,” She insisted.

 

“Your tempers are different, I have seen her portrait, and she does not strike me as frail,”

 

“You are asking me to train a young girl in the best ways to seduce my son so the Valar can put her son by him in a sacrificial stone?”  It seemed completely incredible to her.  The whole idea seemed ludicrous… and cruel, decidedly cruel.  To force someone else to lose their child so the Valar could cover their mistakes.

 

“The boy will not be killed, the boy will not be allowed to leave Valinor, but he is to live for things to work out,” Finwë explained.

 

“Poor child,”

 

“I know…”

 

 Nerdanel closed her eyes tiredly and then nodded, “I want to see them first, and then I will decide.  Besides, three of my sons had wives.  What of them?”

 

“Curvo and Yára refuse to be separated.  Their bond remains.  As for the other two… well, they were eager enough to be free.”  He rubbed his forehead and she rolled her eyes.

 

“So, from my more than absent daughters in law, I get to keep the one I liked the least, replace two and gain two more?”  Nerdanel greeted her teeth.  She had never been fond of Curufinwë’s wife.  They were too different to be married to two who were practically the same person.  The only qualities that redeemed her with Nerdanel were her unending loyalty to her son and her devotion to her grandson.

 

“Essentially,” Finwë told her with a small smile and she rolled her eyes again.  “Why do you not meet them first so you can put faces on the names? And after that, if your answer is no, I will trouble you no more.”

 

Nerdanel nodded, with the feeling that she was making the worst deal of her life.  “Seems like the best thing to do.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 “I am scared, daerada, very much so,”

 

“There is no need to fear, Eleniel.  You know that we are beyond danger in the blessed realm,” Celeborn told his great granddaughter as they walked through the gardens.

 

He was endlessly pleased to have her there, as she was the daughter of his grandson, whom he had known since birth and seen grow up.  When her parents had sailed, both of Elrohir’s children had remained in Middle Earth and he had feared he would never see either again.

 

“Not in theory, but there is something haunting me, haunting my dreams, and it comes to me every single night.  I do not know how much longer I can stand it,” Astrid insisted, frowning softly as she looked around.

 

It seemed that no harm could come to anyone in this blessed realm, under the morning sun, as they walked together.  She knew better.

 

She felt lonely without her cousin and her brother, not to mention her dear friends, but there was no way to communicate with them.  Trying to find the words to speak of her incubus with Celeborn was proving difficult, and awkward to say the least, but she needed help.  How could she make him understand the urgency of her plight without causing a scandal?

 

Celeborn closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking intently at her, “I would not have you harmed in any fashion, child, neither your father nor grandfather.  We would not have allowed the Maiar to bring you here unless your safety was a certainty.”

 

 “I still know not the reason I was brought in here.  I know that you know something.  Everyone does, yet no one will speak to me.  I must know!  Since it affects me, I believe I should be given some information, or elsewise, be returned to my home.  Beriadan knows not where I am; neither do any of my friends.  I was just taken away from home without further explanation until we met Eönwë on the ship,” She closed her eyes tried to hold back the feelings of frustration and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm her.

 

It would not do for her to explode in rage, it would not get her anything, and at least Celeborn was actually taking the time to speak with her and rescue her from awkward and strict lessons. He had always been there for her as a child, in Rivendell, and she loved him dearly for it.

 

Celeborn shook his head, knowing that she would be better if left in ignorance.  If she knew the whole truth, she would probably do something foolish and desperate to escape, and that would only end with her being hurt. “I will not say, child, moreover, I will not lie to you, I never have, I never shall, so do not ask me about the reasons you were brought here.  I will speak with a friend and maybe these dreams that haunt you will stop,”

 

Astrid shook her head tiredly, “Short of Irmo, who in these blessed lands, can actually defeat an incubus of this magnitude?”

 

She blushed at her own bluntness, but at least the extent and nature of her trouble were out in the open. He gritted his teeth and took a few steps away from her.

 

 _This is not right… this is not part of the deal,_ Celeborn and Elrond and Elrohir had all been sworn to that Astrid’s safety and wellbeing would not be compromised.

 

That… _creature_ … would not put his hands on her one second sooner than strictly necessary.  She was not to be harmed in any fashion, neither fëa nor hröa.  That was the promise made, and yet they had allowed… _him_ to haunt her and torment her.  To play with her as if her wellbeing did not matter at all. 

 

“Since when have you been tormented by these… dreams?” he asked, not quite wanting to know the answer.

 

“Seven months.  At first, I was able to control them, but now…  Ever since I came here is like being trapped in a nightmare, and I cannot wake up until… until it is done with me,” Astrid blushed and lowered her eyes as she answered.  “And after I wake, its presence lingers for a small while… half an hour, at the most.”

 

It was her deep shame, to be unable to control these dreams, as she had always been able to control her dreams or project herself the dream realm of others.  She was a natural with this, but with this matter, she felt she was drowning.

 

Celeborn took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently, “My dear girl, I will resolve this.  Do I have your permission to discuss the matter with Elrond and my wife?”

 

“Yes,” she shook her head, “but, please, do not tell Adar and Naneth.  It might hurt them, and I would not see them suffer… least of all when my brother is not here to comfort them.”

 

Celeborn nodded and strode quickly back to the house, his mind set on solving the matter by any means possible.

 

First, he would speak to Elrond about having her take a sleeping draught that would help keep those dreams away, and second…

 

He would find a way to speak to Irmo or Námo, or at least to one of their Maiar.

 

If they could not keep _him_ under control, then he himself was breaking the deal and Arda could be damned for all he cared.  His great-grandchild did not need to deal with _him_ while she prepared for her mission.

 

What awaited her was harsh enough…

 

There was no need to make things difficult now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering how Beriadan was holding out...

These men were brutes; they had not even the first or slightest clue of where to start and what to do when it came to torture, which, if he was being honest with himself, only made things even more dangerous.

 

It was strange to imagine he would ever find himself in such a predicament after being able to escape the Spanish Inquisition and other religious groups.  That was probably the very same reason he had escaped to Asia… to get away from the number of Cristian groups, Catholic or Protestant, that called themselves the true messengers of God.

 

It was not that a surviving in Imperial China had been easier.  Chinese tortures were just as brutal, if not more so than Europeans, but they were also far more refined in their methods.

 

 He had not struggled as much in Japan, but then again, he had had protection there.  There were few places in the world where he could consider he could have allies, even lesser places where he could feel he had a home, and now that his sister had disappeared, he felt his loneliness even more.

 

However, the physical pain drown the pain in his fëa.

 

And, by Eru, he was in pain… his whole nervous system was on fire.

 

His whole skin felt like a burning and festered wound.

 

At the rate these bastards were going, he would need surgery on his both of knees, left foot, maybe on his back, definitely on his shoulder.  Fortunately, he could fix some of that himself… his back and shoulder on the other hand… well, his arms were not as long, and his hands were not double jointed.

 

It was twisted, but the thing that gave him control over his pain, was to focus on the exact things that were causing it.  What nerves were being pushed, what muscles were being punished, what measures and time would it take him to recover?  To know and analyze how exactly was his body suffering and how it would suffer while it healed.

 

If he ever managed to escape, that was.

 

Not that his hopes of escaping where high.

 

Should he ever faced Sauron again, he would do everything in his power to get the chance to kick the bastard in the nuts… if he escaped and broke a record, or anyone rescued him, that is.

 

No one had ever escaped Sauron’s grasp, as far as he could remember… and no, he was not counting rescues.

 

You had help when being rescued.  You did not escape on your own, and as no one knew his whereabouts… those did not count.  No one was coming.  Those that had escaped had not done so in reality.  Morgoth or one of his minions released them for this or that ill purpose.

 

A ray of light fell over him when the door to his prison opened and Beriadan curled into a tight ball, expecting to be taken out to another session of torture, but instead of dragging him away, they tossed a woman inside.

 

When the door closed again and they were left in semidarkness, he crawled towards her and rolled her gently on her back.  She looked like a Native American, probably in her mid to late sixties.  Her olive skin was wrinkled and had a velvet-like texture against his tormented fingers, her hair was black streaked with grey, and tied in long, thick braid that was practically undone.

 

She had been tortured as well but to a much lesser level.  Poor woman… what business did Sauron had with her?  What could she possibly know about anything in their world?

 

“Valerie…” she moaned softly, without opening her eyes.

 

“I’m not Valerie.  I’m Alexandros and I am a doctor,” he whispered softly, half carrying her to a tattered old mattress in the opposite corner and laying her down.

 

She took in a deep breath and seemed to lose consciousness.

 

Beriadan closed his eyes and clenched his fists, feeling a new surge of courage in him.

 

He would find a way out… he vowed he would, and he would save this woman if he could.  He pressed his ear to her chest and released a breath he had not realized he had been holding when he heard a steady, strong heartbeat, her breath seemed a bit shallow but steady.

 

She was not in immediate danger, only weakened, and tired, and he could help her with that.

 

Gently he undid the braid and untangled her hair with his fingers before braiding it again.

 

Beriadan sat on the mattress, leaned against a wall as he took her in his arms and placed her head on his shoulder, her back against his chest.  Old chants in the long forgotten tongues of the elves returned to his mind.  He whispered to her songs of peaceful dreams, and of healing as he rubbed gentle circles over her forehead.

 

Soon she seemed relaxed and maybe a bit healthier.

 

He would not surrender and die… and he would not let her do so.

 

He was the only thing between Sauron and his sister and cell companion, and he would not fail.


	7. Chapter 7

Eight months had gone by since she had woken up to find her lip bruising from an over eagerly incubus.

 

Seven months after she had been brought to Valinor.

 

Seven months in which she had been that accursed incubus plaything.

 

Fortunately, Celeborn had pulled some strings, just as promised, and she had been able to sleep peacefully for almost a month now.

 

Astrid, however, suspected that it had more to do with some mix of ager and wounded pride on her incubus behalf than anything she or her great-grandfather could have done.  The last time he had shown up he had been furious with her.  She had been terribly frightened.

 

**_Why do you refuse me thus? Did I ever treat you with anything but consideration?_ **

 

_We have never met!_

 

**_Do you love me not?_ **

 

_My heart is mine alone and it is not given to anyone!_

 

**_You once claimed you did…_ **

 

_I have never seen you!_

 

**_Do I not bring you pleasure?_ **

 

_No…  I am scared of you… leave me be!_

 

**_Have I not done right by you?_ **

 

_Stop haunting me!_

 

**_Why do you now refuse me what is mine? You are my wife!_ **

 

_I am not!  I am not wedded nor will I ever be!_

 

**_Suit yourself then…_ **

****

**_You will regret this!_ **

****

**_You will miss me and I will be not be there!_ **

 

He had simply vanished afterwards and she had been immensely relieved.  A mad spirit powerful enough to control his presence that way was never a good thing to have around, no matter what. And this one, in particular, she wanted to keep as far away as possible.

 

The morning after the odd confrontation the notification that her presence was required in Tirion arrived.

 

A group would arrive to escort her a month from that day with one member of her family and she would stay with the rest of the Rínawendi until further notice.  She was strongly advised (ordered) to make friends with the rest. Why, though? Why was it so important?

 

Contact with people outside the house was strictly forbidden, family members and members of the royal family were the exceptions to the rule.  She was going to have two handmaids assigned to cover her every need and it was not necessary to bring any more clothes than the ones she was wearing, she would be provided with all the clothing she would need.

 

Astrid did not know whether to feel nervous about what was to come or relieved that at last, she would have some new information, but she guessed she could be worse than she was now.  She would have to put her brave face on and face whatever that was in store for her.

 

* * *

 

As promised, they came to fetch her in the morning, a month after the letter had arrived, right after breakfast, which the entire household usually had together.

 

She was scared and eager at the prospect of a change of pace.

 

Her mother had put her in a dark green warm, velvet riding dress with golden vines embroidered on the hem and the bodice, and done her hair up in a braid that circled the back of her hair, adorned with small golden lilies. 

 

Elrohir had embraced his daughter perhaps a bit too tightly, but Astrid had enjoyed his embrace as well as her mother’s.  She had missed them sorely through the years.  Elrond had been gentler with his embrace and Celebrían had made a fuss of how beautiful Astrid looked.  Elladan had pressed his lips together and kissed her forehead before wishing her good luck.

 

Daeradar Celeborn would be riding with them to escort her and reunite with his wife in Tirion.

 

* * *

 

They had been riding for almost two hours, her back was killing her, and she was certain she would have saddle sores by the time they finally arrived at the inn they would spend the night in.  She had not been on a horse in little more than a century and now she had 2 days of riding before her.

 

“Will you tell me now, daeradar?  Please, I beg of you,” she whispered to him, trying not to draw attention to herself.  The seven elves around them were silent and intimidating; all of them wearing the livery of the house of Finwë and swords that she was not sure was purely ceremonial.  She hated being unarmed and she the closest thing to a weapon she had touched for nearly eight months outside lessons was the cutlery knives during meals.  It was frustrating, to say the least.

 

Celeborn looked at her and sighed before starting to answer “Not yet, not entirely, but I will…”

 

 “The Lady Eleniel will be taken before a selection of Estë’s best healers, amongst whom will be Great Princess Findis, to make sure she is in perfect physical condition.  Then, if she is in optimal health, she will be presented to the women of the royal family.”  The elf ahead of the group answered in a curt voice and Celeborn glared at him.

 

 “Yes, that is the plan, for now.  I expect that more information will follow,” he told her with a deep sigh.

 

 “Why am I to meet the royal family?”  Astrid asked, with a feeling of dread beginning to form in her belly.

 

“Why would you not?  Are you not of their lineage?”  Celeborn told her and Astrid nodded, resigned.

 

 She did not believe that was the point, but she knew there was no point in pushing her luck, she would not get anything else out of him.


	8. Chapter 8

Celeborn and Astrid, along with their guard, arrived at the Inn at dusk the day they had left Elrond’s house.  As expected, they had ridden all day without any inconvenience, they had an abundant dinner, and their horses were tended to.  A warm bath and some soothing lotion had helped Astrid with her saddle sores and she had gone straight to bed afterwards.

 

She had barely gotten any rest due to her anxiousness and the most subtle return of her incubus had not helped, his presence had been as unnerving as his actions soothing.  He had just curled around her body, held her close, and kissed her neck until she fell asleep.  If more had happened afterwards, she had no idea, but she suspected not as there were no marks in her body.

 

He had been kind to her, helping her sleep when she was scared and in pain and uncomfortable… and she hated him for it.  Why could he not be a constant prick so she could hate him without feeling guilty?

 

She had been awakened early by a maid who had helped her dress in the same clothes she had worn the day before and then sent her down to meet the rest of her escorts.

 

They were meant to leave in the early morning after a light breakfast and Astrid had actually glared at her horse for having to ride again.  Celeborn must have felt her discomfort because he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close to him “All will be fine.  You will see.”

 

“I feel like I am some rarity taken to a curiosity fair, to be gaped at,” she confessed and he sighed.  Celeborn pressed her shoulder once and headed to his own horse, feeling unable to comfort her.

 

Their group set out straight afterwards and rode until sunset, only stopping to change horses and have a light meal at another roadside inn, when they finally reached Tirion.  The city was imposing, impressive and beautiful… it was unlike anything Astrid had seen before, and considering she had been tumbling around the world for quite a few centuries, it was not small praise.  If she had to make a comparison, she would probably choose Rome.

 

Their escorts guided them across the city to an old and large house located on the outskirts on the other side of town.  It was clear that it had been through recent reconstruction, by the state of the walls and the doors.

 

A grimace showed on Celeborn’s face when he spotted the engraved emblem next to the wide double doors.  She followed his gaze and opened her eyes wide in surprise.  The eight-pointed star of Fëanor.  Why would that be in this house?  The head of the escorts had told her that she would be a guest in one of the houses belonging to the Noldoran… but there was decidedly more to that story.

 

Just as she opened her mouth to ask about it, an elleth dressed in navy blue opened the door to welcome her, “Good, good! You are right in time for dinner, milady.  Let’s get in so you can refresh yourself and then we will talk.”

 

Celeborn got off his horse as an escort helped Astrid off hers.  She turned to thank him and was surprised to see pity in his eyes.

 

“Please, tell me whatever it is you know,” she whispered and he shook her head, taking a step back.

 

“I am not allowed to, milady. I am sorry.”

 

Before she could protest, the elleth that had welcomed touched her arm gently and guided her and Celeborn inside the house.  Astrid gave her escorts one last look before walking in and their leader nodded at her once, “Good luck, milady, you will need it.”

 

She sighed and walked in, even more, nervous than she was before, and followed the elleth through a short hallway into an inner yard. Astrid looked upside to find three of the other women looking curiously at her from the balcony of the upper level. All of them were wearing the same pale grey colour in her clothes.

 

She wondered briefly how the lot of them would get along after those months apart.  After their initial fright was gone… and her story proved to be true, how would they take to her presence?

 

“There will be time for acquaintances later, milady now we need to get you settled in.  My name is Sérëdhiel and I am the matron of this house,” The elleth told Astrid and guided her to a marble staircase and three floors upstairs.  Celeborn was not allowed to come with her and she could not help feeling a little abandoned, but he had embraced one last time and kissed her forehead before he left.

 

She was guided towards an arched entrance with double doors at the end of a long hallway, that surrounded an inner garden, and inside was a set of rooms that Astrid could have sworn were larger than her apartment in New York. Wherever she turned, the eight-pointed star was discretely embedded and that only made her more nervous.  

 

Sérëdhiel told her in detail the instructions she was to follow while she stayed in the house.  Regarding visitors: there were very few people allowed to visit them and they rarely came in, and never upstairs.

 

The schedules (meals, lessons, leisure times, and the time the lights went out).

 

They were to keep their rooms tidy and their belongings clean and in good conditions at all times.

 

Outings (always in-group and with an escort, the very few places they were allowed to visit and they were not to make contact with anyone)…

 

Overall, it felt like an extremely strict boarding school.

 

“Lady Astrid, are you listening to me?”  Sérëdhiel snapped and Astrid returned her attention to her.

 

“Whose house is this?  What is the story of the house?  I know Fëanor’s star, why is it here?”  She asked more concerned with that than with anything the elder elleth could tell her.  The Sérëdhiel sighed and smiled approvingly.

 

“So you noticed… the rest needed a couple of months to make the connection.  In their defence, it was not until they began to learn about the heraldry of the royal family that questions began to arise.”  Astrid knew she was getting a little too defensive, but she wanted the answers that had been denied to her for months.

 

“I was the only one born and raised in a purely elven society, is logical.  That does not answer my question” Astrid insisted and Sérëdhiel smirked at her.

 

“This house belonged to Crown Prince Fëanáro during the Years of the Trees but has been restored for you and the other ladies to use.  You will meet the rest of them at dinner, tonight, and tomorrow morning you will be introduced to the Ladies of the Royal Household.”

 

“And what am I doing here?  What are these mortal women doing here?  My own family has kept me for months in the dark…  I want answers, and I want them now.  I am reaching the end of my patience.”

 

“You will receive them tonight, I am sure your patience can hold until dinner,” Sérëdhiel’s tone left room for no argument and Astrid took a step back, “I will leave you to settle and freshen yourself.  I will send your maids up shortly help you get dressed.  You will find clothes have already been settled for you.  Good evening, milady.”

 

And that said, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

 

Astrid fell on one of the couches in the sitting room, trying to figure out if she felt angry and frustrated, or scared and betrayed.  Maybe all four of them… not to mention a million things she could not even begin to sort out.

 

Fëanorians… were always bad news, or so she believed from her history lessons.

 

To top it all, she could feel a presence in the room, although she knew she was alone.  Was it a phantom?  It felt oddly familiar… and she did not even want to begin to wonder why, although a nagging suspicion began to form in the back of her mind.  She shook her head, crushing it before it took full form.  She did not want to go down that path, the slightest hint of that made her nauseous.  Her incubus was just that… a tortuous spirit, no more!  It had never been a man; it certainly had never been an ellon.  Decidedly not any particular ellon that had once dwelled here.

 

She hid her face in her hands and tried to block out the rest of the world and empty her mind.  She was just making random connections due to the place she was in; it was just tiredness and her frayed nerves playing games with her common sense, no more.  She was certain of it.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a soft knock on the door and two maids entered without waiting for an answer.  They curtseyed quickly to Astrid and introduced themselves as Sárailin and Eärarë.

 

 _Right… so I am stuck with you two until further notice,_ she eyed them both and decided that playing along would be in her best interest, so she gave them a brilliant smile that seemed to please them immensely, maybe Frick and Frack knew more than everyone guessed and she could sneak something out of them before dinner.

 

“We are here to help you in any way we can, milady” Sárailin, who was almost as short as Astrid was, had dark brown hair and a roundish face, told her with an eager smile.

 

“Right now we are to make you ready for dinner,” Eärarë, blonde and thin, added and disappeared through a side that door that Astrid assumed was either the bedroom or the bathroom.

 

Sárailin then showed Astrid around her suite.  The main space consisted of a cosy sitting room around a large chimney, a small eating area with a table for two, and a working area consisting of a luxurious, large mahogany desk and matching shelves filled with books that she hoped she would have time to look at later.

 

“So is this standard decoration, or do the rest of the girls have each a different style?”  Astrid asked, eying the lush red carpet in front of the chimney.  The place was elegant and opulent, but a little too classic for her taste.

 

“Every room is different, milady,” Sárailin answered smiling, “As far as I know, the rooms decoration is a replica of how they looked in the Years of the Trees.  That is what Mistress Sérëdhiel claims, at least, but she should know better than anyone now… she was a governess to the Fëanorian sons in the Years of the Trees, after all.  You lucked out in the settings, milady; the heir’s rooms are the second best room, only after the master suite which is empty.”

 

“The heir’s rooms?  So you are telling me that these were Maedhros Fëanorion’s rooms… and they look the same way they did back when he was living in here?”  A chill ran down Astrid’s spine at the prospect.  It was daunting, to say the least… once more she crushed the growing suspicion in the back of her mind with regards to her incubus.

 

“Yes, milady, as far as I know.  I would not know for certain, I was born a mere 800 years ago” the maid was chatty and Astrid decided that was convenient as long she was not chatty about Astrid herself.  “Fortunately, many things have been modernized, starting with the electric system and the plumbing”

 

“I can only imagine.”  Astrid mentally compared it to her baroque black and white style apartment and winced.  This was a big change…  If the decoration in here reflected any of the personality of the previous occupant, he likely had been a pompous ass and would probably be scared out of his wits of leaving her alone and unwatched in his rooms.  _Sadly for him, he is locked away in Mandos until the end of times…_ _as he has been ever since he took his own life; he is not sneaking out when the mood strikes him, and certainly not to haunt me_.  

 

“Then there is the balcony and you can access through this glass doors, would you like to see it, milady?”  Sárailin opened the doors and took a step back so Astrid could walk out first.  She bit her lower lip eyeing the set of comfortable chairs and pillows out there.  She loved it… and decided she would copy the decoration for home when she returned… too bad she could not take the view of the lake back home with her as well.  Well, Manhattan would have to do.

 

“Is beautiful,” She told the maid and she smiled, pleased.

 

“I knew you would like it here, milady, it is my favourite part, too.  Would you like me to show you the bedroom?”  She looked eager and Astrid smiled at her, although she did not feel like smiling.  She was starting to feel trapped.

 

“Lead the way, if you please,”

 

As they walked back inside and across the main area, the familiar presence surrounded Astrid once more.  She had a certain experience with tormented lingering spirits, only the basics… she was no exorcist; she was not connected to the world beyond although like most elves she was sensitive to it.  Her domain was the world of dreams.  Could it actually be…?

 

No, she decided.  He had died in Beleriand which she guessed was somewhere in the North Atlantic, and while it had been a violent death, he would have lingered in the place of his death, not here.  Besides, since when did elves turned into ghosts or incubi?  It was wholly unheard of; elves awaited their return to life in the halls of Mandos.

 

“Sárailin, do you know if someone lived here after the Fëanorians left?”  She asked, but she already knew the answer.  No one would want to live in this house, not with the history of its previous occupants.

 

“No, milady, there were rumours, as a matter of fact, that this house was haunted.  I confess I was quite scared to work here, and while there have some odd things, they have never been scary, mostly like childish pranks, a little annoying but never dangerous.”  The maid answered and Astrid opened her eyes wide.

 

“Odd things?  Like what?”

 

“Things that disappear and appear in whole different place, doors and windows that open and close on their own, sounds of steps walking or running in the upper levels when no one is upstairs, voices in empty rooms or late at night…  Those can be scary, milady, sometimes they scream and laugh and whisper things I would rather not even think about,” Sárailin told her with fear in her eyes and Astrid pitied her.  With a few millennia living in Endórë under her belt, few things could scare Astrid, but to know that such activity was taking place in this house in this precise place in all of Arda was… unnerving.

 

They entered the bedroom and Astrid saw that the opulent, classic style permeating the main area there as well.  There was another glass door to the balcony and a full body mirror with a table with a set of combs and toiletries next to it.

 

However, what called her attention the most was the canopied bed, carved in mahogany with heavy red velvet drapes.  It was enormous, five people could fit comfortably in it, and Astrid was certain she would feel tiny like a doll just sitting in it.  She held back the childish impulse of running and jumping on it, and instead ran her fingers over the red velvet coverlet that matched the drapes.

 

“This way, milady, so I can show you your clothes,” Sárailin called her attention and guided her through a small door that led to the largest walk-in closet she had ever seen.  An involuntary shiver ran through Astrid as she noticed that everything in that house was enormous… as had been its previous dwellers.

 

The maid guided her through a collection of dresses of different fabrics, all around her size, simple, classic and elegant.  Astrid knew she would have spent a large amount of time trying them on one after the other except for one disappointing factor… they were all the same shade of grey she had seen other women wearing.

 

“Is it a uniform?”  She asked only half joking, running her fingers gently over a silk floor length gown that would not cover her shoulders and most of her back.

 

“After a fashion, I guess.  They wanted you and the rest of the ladies to have a harmonized look, but they did not want to use the colour of any of the Princely Houses.”  Sárailin answered as she took a dress made of sateen with a low round neck and matching shoes with kitten heels and returned to the bedroom to place them on the bed.  “I think they chose a lovely colour, I like this shade of silver very much, I think it will make your skin look paler and softer,”

 

Astrid sighed but said nothing… thanks to her mother’s genes her skin tanned easily and was a shade darker than most elves.  She did not care, in fact, she enjoyed it very much, but she knew amongst elves it was bound to be commented on.  She followed Sárailin back into the room and into another room leading to the bathroom.

 

It was all in white marble with a large round tub in the centre, ready for her, and a shower at her left… both would easily fit five people.  There was a large mirror next to a sink, a red velvet divan a few feet away from the tub and a matching ottoman next to it.  At the very back, almost hidden, were two glass doors on opposing corners… one had to be the toilet and the other one turned out to be a steam room.

 

“Well, this is something else!”  Astrid murmured, looking above at the dome that allowed sunlight into the room.  If this room had not been altered much from the original design, then Maedhros had been more than lucky while living in this house.

 

“Is it not, milady?  Now, let’s get you ready for dinner” Eärarë told her, and the maids began to undress her and let her hair down before getting her in the tub to wash the dirt and exhaustion from the road off her skin. 

 

Astrid looked from one maid to the other, uncertain of what to say or do.  The last time she had had a maid to help her bathing had been more than two hundred years ago.  She had refused Celebrían’s offer of assigning one to her, but Astrid was sure there was no way to avoid this pair for this particular matter, so she let the maids do their work on her.  And if she was being honest, it felt nice to be pampered like this after long ride.


	10. Chapter 10

Dinner had been a horrible thing.  She had entered the dining room the last due to her late arrival that day.  After taking her place next to the matron, dinner was promptly served and they began their meal in absolute silence.  Astrid hoped this was not the usual ambience of the house, and that things would calm down after they had a chance to speak without someone breathing over their necks.

 

It was strange to see them all sitting in different dresses, all of the same colour… also a bit depressing. However, she guessed there was no helping it.  At least she had been able to wear whatever she wanted back in her grandfather’s house.

 

If the food had been good or what it had been, she could not even remember.

 

Astrid was pretty certain none of them had been able to think about the food after they’d been led to a side room where six portraits were displayed on easels across the room.  The portraits each had a card with two names beneath them.  She felt her breath pick up as she looked at the ellyn in the portraits.  Two of them she had met months ago when they had visited Elrond, but the other four, she had never seen before, although she had a good idea of whom they were.  At the base, there was a card with the name of the ellon in the portrait and the name of one of the girls. Eru had mercy on them all.  What was this about?

 

She walked in with slow and uncertain steps, her eyes fixed on the ground, trying to avoid seeing the portraits in detail or to read the sings beneath them. She was terrified of lifting her eyes and seeing… what? What did any of them have to do with these elves? Yeah, she was extremely loosely related to them, but she guessed that mattered little if it mattered at all.

 

No, this was more than a twisted family matter.

 

She reached the portrait at the end of the room, almost as if it had called her, and took a deep breath before raising her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at the face of the ellon in the painting. 

 

All of her life she had had the mental image of a Maedhros who was fierce and brutal, disfigured by torment and the battles that followed. A monster…

 

This was more like the portrait of an angel… high cheekbones, square jaw, straight long nose, and bright silver eyes under a mane of dark red hair. He was beautiful and his regal clothes and golden circlet he looked like the prince from a fairytale. If she were still the silly and naïve girl that lived in Rivendell under her father’s care, she would have fallen for him then and there.

 

As it was, she was not.

 

And she feared him even more because of his fair looks.

 

Astrid lowered her eyes and saw her name written next to his… dread sat in her stomach and her limbs went cold.

 

Why was her name written next to a kinslayer’s? He was a murderer… a murderer who had let his sword fall mercilessly on innocent unsuspecting people not once, but thrice…

 

“What is the meaning of this?” The angry voice of another of the women dragged her out of her stupor and Astrid turned her head to look at the other woman.

 

Her dark skin and black curly hair was a sharp contrast compared to the pale, silver-haired ellon in the portrait in front of her.  Her accent let Astrid know she was most likely British and most definitely angry. Her name was Dawn, Astrid remembered from the boat trip.

 

The matron took a deep breath and sighed.

 

“This, ladies, is your fate.”

 

* * *

 

 

There had been questions, anger, tears, outrage and million reactions more from the rest of the ladies.  Astrid only felt numbness and fear.

 

Her fate?  Maedhros Fëanorion was her fate?

 

It ridiculous! Absurd! He could not be her fate as he had sealed his own fate millennia before she was even born with the oath he and his siblings had sworn along with his father… not to mention that Maehdros had been dead for nearly as many centuries.

 

He was a psycho… a suicidal psycho… and the Valar wanted to leave her at his mercy?

 

No! Never! Not a chance on all of Arda of that ever happening.

 

She did not remembered what exactly had happened afterwards, she briefly remembered the matron sending the lot of them to a sitting room where she had given them a half explanation regarding something about souls and fate and alterations in time, and after some more screams, shouts and tears the others had been sent back upstairs without much ceremony.

 

She alone had been ordered to stay and taken to another room, this time an office, where Eönwë waited.

 

A sardonic smile crossed his face as soon as she walked in.  “How are you feeling, Lady Astrid?”

 

“As if I’d just been hit by a bus,” she answered before she could contain herself. “What the heck is this about my fate?”

 

“How much do you know about seals and magic?” He counter asked and she shrugged.

 

“Just the basics, that all seals need blood to be completed, that every seal has a price, and that they must be renewed from time to time by the same bloodline for them to remain… what does that have to with me?”

 

Eönwë sat behind the desk and point at the chair across, so she would sit in front of him. “Do you know that the Ainur cannot perform seal magic onto one another?”

 

Astrid sat gingerly in the seat he had pointed at and nodded slowly. “Because they do not have defined bodies. You choose what form to take. You might be bound to a body, but it still is not your natural shape.”

 

He nodded approvingly. “Melkor’s imprisonment in Mandos was done with a blood seal.  Do you know whose blood it was used?”

 

She shook her head and frowned in confusion. “Whose?”

 

“Finwë and Míriel’s… they volunteered before Manwë and Varda, and the seal was carried on without complications. However, the price to keep that seal was there would be no creation of life between them. I assume you know how that story ended,”

 

Her eyes opened in surprise as he told her a whole new version of a story she thought she knew well. “But they had a son,”

 

“Aye and Míriel poured her whole soul into him so she would not miscarry because of the seal.” Eönwë told her and she had to hold back a shudder. With Míriel’s passing, the seal must have been weakening until it had not been enough to contain Morgoth.

 

“Yes, you are correct, Lady Astrid.  And Finwë’s second marriage did nothing but speed things up.” He answered her thoughts and she glared at him. “Just a while ago, you were told how Sauron was messing with the flow of time, am I correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He intends to unleash his master from beyond the void by opening the Doors of Night.  Those are a seal, too. Do you know whose blood it was used to seal Melkor away this time?”

 

“Eärendil’s?” she guessed and he nodded.

 

“Exactly, and the price he paid was that he could not set feet on land ever again, that is the reason Elwing must fly to him if they ever want to meet. However, that seal is weakening as well.”

 

Astrid nodded and frowned, so far she understood what he was telling her, but she still had to glimpse a connection between the story and Maedhros being her fate. 

 

“To seal Melkor away once and for all, milady, we need to restore both seals.  To restore the first one, we need someone with Míriel and Finwë’s blood. Maedhros is not only their eldest grandson but also the only ellon who has survived unbroken and uncorrupted to Melkor’s own touch in all history of Arda. We also need someone with the bloodlines of Finwë’s male sons.”

 

“I think I know where this is going… No, I will not do whatever it is you bunch of lying mad creatures want me to do.” She jumped out of her seat and took a step away from the desk.

 

“To restore the second seal, we need the blood of Eärendil,” He continued, unfazed by her reaction, “Can you tell me who has the proper lineage for us to renew both seals, milady?”

 

“No!” she protested as a cold sweat ran down her back.

 

“Yes,” he hissed and she took another step back, feeling his power expanding through the room and she felt she was drowning in it. “You will bear Maedhros’s heir, whose blood we will use to renew the seals. You will be sent back all the way to Beleriand three months from now.  So use that time to get used to the idea that you will have a child and Maedhros son of Fëanor will be the father.” 

 

“What happens if I do not do that?” she asked barely above a whisper.

 

“Melkor will be released and the Dagor Dagorath will come,” His power returned to his body as suddenly as it had expanded and she was able to breathe once more.

 

“Congratulations on your impending marriage, Princess Astrid.”


	11. Chapter 11

Astrid had stared at him for a long while and did not know what was going on around her until she realized Sérëdhiel was guiding her through the halls all the way back to her suit.

 

No, Maedhros’s suit.

 

The one they had arranged for her as his future wife.

 

It all felt like a nightmare.

 

It could not be true.

 

The older elleth left her once they passed the deserted hallway that led to her room and Astrid was safely inside the doors.

 

She felt like a zombie, with no will to move on her own and no will to think… and if the cold on her face was any indication, she probably looked like a zombie, too.  She been quite out of it during the whole process of coming back upstairs, and had only regained her grip on reality when she had seen his portrait on an easel in her sitting room… his sitting room, more accurately.

 

Her eyes ran over his handsome features once more, taking in every detail from his portrait.  He did not look like an angel anymore, although the portrait was the same.  

 

“I hate you,” she snarled at him, although she was fully conscious it was only a portrait and he could not hear her.

 

Astrid looked away and went to the bedroom as fast as she could to avoid caving into the temptation of throwing his portrait to the fire.  Something she was certain would get her in huge trouble, and she did not need any more of that.

 

She did not bother to ring for the maids as she undressed and put her nightgown on, brushed her hair and got ready for bed. The activity was oddly soothing and helped her keep her mind off the portrait just outside the room.  Besides, she needed to be alone in order to calm down.  She would not be able to do so with those two dancing around her.

 

When she finally had everything ready and got into bed, she found herself facing another problem.

 

She was too scared to sleep at all.

 

* * *

 

Hours had passed and Astrid still could not sleep as his face haunted her mind.  The presence of the incubus felt heavier around her tonight than it had ever before.

 

Was Maedhros her incubus?  It was a strange and terrifying notion, but one that made a lot of sense.  Who else would seek her out in this place?  He probably thought she already belonged to him ever since she first walked in Valinor. He was mistaken, though. She was no one’s possession. She was her own person and she would fight him every inch of the way.

 

Maedhros…

 

Serious, regal, imposing, commanding, short-tempered, firm, rigid… were all words that could describe the man in the royal portrait they had shown her that very afternoon and that awaited just outside the door, along with evil, cruel, insane, harsh, and kinslayer.

 

She feared him beyond measure.  They would have to drug her and chain her legs apart to put his seed inside her with a syringe if they expected her to procreate with him.

 

She could not do it.  Under no circumstance could she bring herself to come to terms with the idea of him.

 

They could not expect someone like her, who was used to taking off and away when the mood stroke her, and to do her will and nothing less, to bind herself to this royal prince that felt more like an extremely severe general. He would be a tyrant, she was certain.  He would be cruel and harsh and crush her at every opportunity he got.

 

He seemed incapable of any kind of tenderness, devoid of any feelings.  She could already imagine how the terrible business of conceiving the child the Valar demanded would go.

 

He would take her hard and fast, almost like an unpleasant duty, and then walk out of the room without a second glance thrown her way after he was done, every night until she was with child and then he would forget all about her until she gave birth.  Then, he would repeat the same accursed routine until he had an heir and a spare.

 

Her future husband… was not whom she once dreamed she would marry.  When she had been young, back in the days when Aragorn was still king and her father was still Lord of Rivendell, she had hoped to marry a handsome young ellon with a brave soul and kind heart. For centuries now she had felt no desire to marry at all.  Her centuries living amongst mankind had made her dread the sole thought of marriage.

 

But now, if things happened according to the plans of the Valar, she would be the bride of one of the most hated ellyn in the history of her people…

 

It felt like a nightmare that she could not escape.

 

Giving up on having any sleep that night she tossed the covers aside and put on her night robe. Maybe all she needed was another look at him.  She opened her door and looked both ways to make sure she was alone and walked towards his portrait.

 

She studied his face carefully, focusing on finding any positive traits that could make her attracted to him.  Yes, he was so good-looking it was ridiculous… but that certainly was not enough for her to actually want to procreate with him.

 

“This is absurd,” she whispered and ran her fingers gently over the portrait.

 

She felt an invisible hand caressing her cheek and she felt like crying.

 

“No, the world can be damned.  I am not doing this,” Astrid growled and ran back to the bedroom, unwilling to look at him any longer.

 

She jumped back in bed and as soon as she had covered herself with the sheets an unnatural sleep took hold of her.  Frightened, she tried to hold on to her consciousness, but she eventually drifted off to darkness.  Where she knew who was waiting for her.

 

* * *

 

It felt she had been unconscious for days when Astrid's eyes fluttered open as she felt large, warm hands pulling at the strings of her chaste silk nightgown. Who was he?  Why was he bothering her?  She raised her head and found herself looking into Maedhros’s stunning silver eyes, filled with desire, as he looked down at her.

 

"You," she whispered, still dizzy with sleep.

 

He smiled at her, as if she were the most amusing thing in the world, and asked, "Were you expecting someone else?"

 

She shook her head, feeling silly, and he kissed her lips softly. Her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed into him to deepen the kiss.  He tasted of wine and danger… she buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. She would easily get drunk on his kisses.

 

“I am glad you have seen sense, vesseya” He gasped after breaking the kiss.  “That act of defiance you have been putting on is most unfitting.” He slid her nightgown down her arms to her waist and caressed the naked skin of her shoulders with his lips.  Astrid sighed when she felt his hands ghosting over her skin to cup her breasts.

 

A surge of desire ran through her body against her will at the feeling of his touch over her body. His hands were smooth and strong and he rubbed his thumbs gently against her swollen nipples. It made her stomach turn and her core throb as moisture pooled between her legs.  She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her…

 

No, she should not want him; she should not give him the pleasure... in any way.

 

Astrid pushed him back, moving away from him, and realized Maedhros was completely naked in her bed. The soft, golden light from the chimney displayed every line of his strong muscled body and she gasped in admiration.  He was glorious! Wide shoulders, sculpted chest, his arms were thick and strong… and that rear… wow.

 

She caught herself staring and turned her eyes to his face. His eyes were set on her face and he was nothing if not smug because of her reaction. “You can touch me if you want.”

 

She wanted to touch him… oh, she wanted to touch him very much, she wanted to touch and kiss every inch of his skin.

 

“No… stay away…” she gasped and he sat back on his legs.

 

Astrid looked at him and her heart skipped a beat as she saw that he did not only have a toned abdomen, but he was particularly well endowed.  She wanted him… she needed him.  Letting him do as he pleased with her promised to be a delightful experience.

 

She shook her head and frowned.

 

This was wrong.

 

This was all wrong.

 

She could not want him; she could not desire him… not like this, not so much.  This was him toying with her, messing with her dreams.  In the real world, she would not want him as she did right now.

 

“What do you want?” she asked as she raised her arms to cover her breasts, but the smallest hint of a frown on his face made her lower her arms again.  

 

“Merin tye-puhta” he answered pulling her nightgown off her body, and she shuddered in fear and anticipation.  He ran his eyes over her naked form and licked his lips.  There were possession and desire burning in his eyes.

 

This was not like the dreams before… this was not an abstract whirlwind of half images and feelings.  He was in her dreams, in control of her, and now that she knew who he was, she could fully see him at long last.  It was like the loose pieces of her previous dreams were combined to form the picture of a puzzle.

 

His red dark hair, his silver eyes, his lips, his body…

 

“Why?” she asked and he arched an eyebrow.

 

“You are my wife,” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him, settling her beneath his body. She clenched the sheets in her fists and closed her eyes, trying to summon all of her power so she could get control of this dream. So she could throw him away.

 

She was many things… “His wife” was not and would not be one of them.

 

However, all of her focus went away when his hand slid between her legs and his lips descended again over hers.

 

“Cendan i nás néna i lúmen” he whispered against her skin as his lips descended down her throat, his fingers pleasuring her core. His kisses shifted on her skin in time with the movement of his fingers, making her whimper in pleasure and hang on to his arms and shoulders.

 

Her will to fight him was crumbling and fast.  She did not know if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer anymore.  If he had pried her legs apart or she had let them fall open on her own, she only knew the brush of his hips against her inner thighs was sending sparks all the way to her belly.  His thumb circled her clit and she gasped in pleasure. “Áva pusta!”

 

He bit her earlobe gently “Eyes on me, vesseya, eyes on me,” He whispered in her ear and she opened her eyes to find his face mere inches away from hers “Merin cene hendutya yá yamit alassenen.”

 

Almost as if it had been an order, she came hard and fast, clinging to him and clawing at his back.  She could not look away, she could not do anything else than feel her orgasm and look into his eyes.

 

Nothing ever would be more intense than this moment, she was certain. But just as was returning to normal, he entered her in one single stroke and unleashed her climax again.

 

Astrid held on to him and buried her face in his neck.  His smell of sandalwood and leather overwhelmed her. She could not think… her fëa was in agony and her hröa was in ecstasy.  He removed himself from her, leaving only the tip inside and then slid back fully. She moaned against his skin held tighter on to him, her foot caressing down from his calve up to his hip.

 

He repeated the movement and she raised her hips to meet him…  She needed him.  She needed to feel all of him, buried deep in her flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him close and locked her ankles together.

 

Maedhros smiled at her reaction and pounded his hips down harder into her.  Astrid squealed in delight and held tighter to his shoulders. His fingers dug into her hips and ass as he pulled her towards him.

 

“Ea maxa ar néna mitye” he grunted into her ear as their bodies moved faster together.

 

Their movements became erratic as they both neared their climax. She could not for a coherent thought, she only wanted to feel his body rubbing against her and his manhood buried inside her.  He was so big, so strong… so intense, and she wanted to lose herself in the pleasure he was giving her.

 

“Áni mique” she begged him, needing once more to taste his mouth.

 

He smirked and complied eagerly, biting her lower lip and sucking on her tongue.

 

As soon as his lips brushed against hers, her orgasm crashed into her in waves of fire through her body and it only took one spasm of her inner walls for him to follow. He broke the kiss and moaned loudly, shivering and pounding inside her.  His cock was pulsing inside her clenching pussy and it furthered and enflamed their orgasm.

 

Astrid ran her fingers softly down the side of his face, thinking only of how beautiful he looked within his pleasure.  His hair stuck to his forehead, shoulders and chest, and his skin glowing with sweat. His eyes shut tight and his jaw slacked in a now silent moan.  He looked like an angel indeed… a fallen angel.

 

He collapsed on top of her with one final thrust and raised himself with his arms to avoid hurting her.  She could feel him relaxing in her arms and growing soft slowly inside of her.  A part of her dreaded the moment he would move and leave her body. She unlocked her ankles and once more caressed his leg with her foot.

 

Maedhros exhaled and pressed his forehead against her. “By Eru, I had missed being with you,”

 

“Y… you… are… well… you have not been… precisely… absent,” she stuttered, unable to move her body. He nodded briefly, not moving away from her.

 

“That will change soon enough,” he answered and smiled playfully. Astrid thought her heart skipped a beat at the sight. “But it is a secret, melmenya,” he added, rubbing his nose against hers.  There was something so tender about that gesture that she pecked him on the lips.

 

After a few seconds of silence, he slid out of her and rolled over his back. He pulled the covers over their bodies, making sure they were fully covered, as it seemed it would be a cold night.  She became aware of how huge the bed was around them as he pulled her to his chest.  She looked at him once and marvelled at the idea that an ellon as big as he was could have sex with such a tiny elleth as her.

 

“It is practice, melmenya, and we will have plenty of time for that,” he answered her thoughts and kissed her forehead. She tried to feel fear at the prospect, but her body and mind refused to be bothered with anything else than the pleasure they had just shared.  She relaxed against his chest, basking in the afterglow of their sex.  Sleep was coming over her and fast she would sink into a dreamless slumber, she could feel it coming.

 

The last words he said to her before darkness claimed her, though, made her heart clench with a mix of dread and yearning.

 

“Yá caitat asenye, nán quanta”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a translation of some of the things said in this chapter, courtesy of realelvish.net
> 
> Vesseya - Beloved wife
> 
> Merin tye-puhta - I want to have sex with you
> 
> Cendan i nás néna i lúmen - It is wet for the occasion
> 
> Áva pusta! - Don’t stop
> 
> Ea maxa ar néna mitye - It is soft and wet inside you
> 
> Áni mique - Kiss me
> 
> Melmenya - My love
> 
> Yá caitat asenye, nán quanta - When you lie beside me, I am complete


	12. Chapter 12

Astrid opened her eyes to find herself protected from the rays of the sun by the heavy curtains around the bed. She could feel the silk sheets sticking to her naked skin and her hair messy and tangled. Even worse, she could still feel his hands and lips on her body and if she pressed her thighs together… better not to think about it.

She wanted to die.

She wanted to kill someone.

She felt dirty and tainted from his touch, even when she knew he had not touched her physically. Worse of all, she felt guilty and she was angry with herself for having enjoyed his… meddling… in her dreams. She had come undone at his touch and begged for his kisses.

Curse him for making her feel this way.

Curse him for being an imminent part of her future.

There had to be a way to leave… to escape.

Astrid got out of bed and walked to the mirror to look at the marks he had left on her body last night. She sighed and winced as she took in the damage. Bites on her neck and her breasts, handprints on her ass and hips. There was no way in hell she could explain this one to the maids… the matron would be furious…

They would all think she had sneaked a man into her room. They would never believe the truth, no matter what she said. It was not that Astrid was particularly keen on having a pristine reputation, but she did not want the trouble that rumours like that would bring along. But on the bright side, they might deem her unworthy of precious Maedhros and she would be free of him.

She sighed again and let her shoulders fell… who was she kidding? She could bring and get in bed with a hundred men and they would still take her to Maedhros so he could put a baby in her. Besides, Eönwë only needed to take a look inside her mind and he would know exactly who had been visiting her dreams.

Most likely the Maia would only shrug it off and go on his way without a second thought. He only cared about her getting pregnant with Maedhros’s baby; he did not care about the details of how that happened or what else happened to _them_.

“This is absurd,” she sighed, picked her nightgown from the floor, where the accursed incubus had tossed it last night, and put it back on. Things were bad enough as they were; she did not need the maids walking in on her naked and apparently freshly fucked.

She also put on a night robe to further cover her body and opened the window, relishing in the early morning breeze. It felt reviving against her face and through her clothes… it felt a bit like freedom.

A freedom that was false and Astrid knew that very well. Her freedom had been left behind in Endórë. Now she was here, a puppet for the Valar to fix their mess and the chew toy of a man who terrified her.

The passion they might share in the dream realm did not matter.

It did not make things easier, on the contrary. In the light of day, everything was different, everything changed and it changed for the worse. How could she ever feel anything but fear towards a man that had turned his sword on innocent people? How could she feel anything but hatred towards a man that had waged war against her own family? Sex and passion and what happened between two sheets could not outweigh the truths that awaited them outside the door. 

Not mention that he would like her only in dreams because he could easily submit her to his will. The easiness with which he submitted her to his desires was frightening. He had only needed to kiss her and she had surrendered everything.

She sighed and walked back inside to ring her maids for breakfast. There was no point in postponing the scandal; it was going to happen anyway. Might as well get on with it… and when she told the truth she would either be a pariah, a laughingstock or both.

Astrid threw the covers away from the mattress and scanned the silk sheets looking for a sign of his presence, even when she knew she would not find anything. He had only visited her mind, even if he had left marks of his possession in her body there would be no other traces for the world to see.

How frustrating.

How could he wield so much power and at the same time leave no traces of this after he left? She sat on the bed and pulled a pillow to her chest. Just as she clung to it as tight as she could, she perceived a hint of his smell… sandalwood and leather. Her insides tightened and she buried her face in the pillow, willing herself not to cry.

She wanted to scream and shout at the unfairness of it all.

Above all things, she wanted nothing more than to feel his comfort, his arms around her.

And she hated herself for it.

“Milady? We have brought you your breakfast… oh, no! What happened?” Eärarë rushed to her and placed her arms around Astrid.

It took only the feeling of the maid’s hand on her shoulder for Astrid to finally collapse. She curled into a tight ball, still hugging the pillow, and leans into her Eärarë’s arms.

“Is okay, milady, just let it all out.” She rubbed gentle circles on the other’s back and held her closer, “It is a lot to take in, and it is a scary prospect, but you will see, it all will turn out for the best in the end.” Astrid could only nod and cry. “Come on, milady, let’s get you a bath and let’s get you to your breakfast, you will feel much better afterwards, I am certain.”

Astrid allowed the maid to lift her off the bed and guide her to the bathroom, even when she was reluctant to let go of the pillow. She sat still on the red divan while her maid readied the bath, outside, Astrid could hear Sárailin fixing the room and readying her clothes for the day. At some point, though, she got in to recover the missing pillow. Astrid sighed and let go of it, clutching her robe close to her body. She dreaded the moment she would have to undress and the maids would see all the markings on her body.

“Ok, milady, the bath is ready! Let’s get you in!” Eärarë told her and Astrid looked down before standing up and removing the robe from her shoulders, followed closely by the nightgown. She heard the maid gasp as she took in her appearance and sprinted to the door to call the other maid.

“Please, call Mistress Sérëdhiel at once, tell her Lady Astrid is hurt.”

“Please don’t…” Astrid tried to stop her, but the Sárailin was already gone.

“As for you, milady, we will scrub you clean and set you in a light robe so the healer can treat you when they get here,” Eärarë pulled Astrid firmly towards the bathtub and into warm the water.

The heat made her bruises and scratches sting as she sat down, but it became soothing once she was fully inside. The maid worked soundlessly and fast on her hair, brushing and washing it, then conditioning it with a rose scented lotion. The silence between them was tense and uncomfortable. 

“I know you must think the worse about me, but this is not what you think,” Astrid told her when she could not stand the silence anymore, but as she turned to look at the maid’s eyes, she only saw fear. Eärarë was terrified of the state she was, and with good reason, since the last time she had seen Astrid’s body, it had been free of any marks or bruises. Not to mention the fact that as far as she knew, no one had entered the room. No one could have entered the house unseen and undetected.

“I think, milady, that this place is haunted… and you are haunted by its ghosts more than anyone else,” she whispered and Astrid nodded once, but before any of them could add more the door burst opened and Sérëdhiel walked in followed by a healer, thankfully female, carrying a small case.

Astrid stood up, radiating anger, as the eyes of the matron ran over her naked body, growing pale with every hurt inch of skin she took in. “Was this part of Lord Eönwë’s plan as well? And just before you ask, no, I have not brought anyone here. I have been watched closely these past months, so I could not have known anyone well enough to attempt that. I have not been this intimate with anyone, period… until gorgeous in the portrait outside showed up, that is.”

The healer gaped at her for a few seconds before opening her case and searching for its contents.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

The matron pressed her lips together and Astrid lowered her eyes and held back the urge to cover herself. “How did this happen?”

“Incubus,” she mumbled “Incubus, and he has been visiting my dreams for nearly 10 months, mostly nightly, and only last night did he unveiled his identity to me.”

The healer turned to Astrid with a flask of ointment in her hand and began applying to her bruises with gentle circular movements.

“I will speak to Lord Eönwë about this. I will send him a letter at once.” The matron told her with a wince and left the bathroom with hurried pace, leaving her in the care of the maids and the healer.


End file.
